Marital duty
by Dinadette
Summary: Wedding night with General Hux could probably have been made easier for her had she not watched him interrogate a young, handsome rebel. PUBLISHED AND EXPANDED PLEASE CONTACT ME FOR LINKS
1. Chapter 1

Getting married to Armitage Hux by proxy wasn't exactly what Mara had in mind for her own future. Nor would she wish it on anyone. Yet as she stood alone in her bedroom, safely back home to her parents, she thought that it could have been much worse. Many of her friends had been married off to old men on distant planets, leaving everything behind, in hope to produce an heir for someone who very clearly would soon need the… replacement. At least this wasn't the case.

Over time, boxes and chests had arrived, and been installed in a nearby villa that would apparently be theirs, later. In the end the man had arrived too, and she met her stranger of a husband in her parents dining room, her mother going all out to impress him with various wines and meats from over the galaxy. He barely looked at her, though sometimes she felt his gaze on her face and cleavage as they sat down to eat. He seemed content ignoring the women, discussing with her father about politics and loyalty to the First Order.

Her mind flew back to that time she had been visiting the house - their house - and she had been silly enough to go through his belongings. Nothing interesting at first, military biographies and books, treaties about politics and then. The holofilms. Propaganda, she assumed, but as she watched it turned darker and darker, her little hand trembling as she switched it off in the middle of an interrogation scene. The boy - the rebel - tied down to a chair could have been a little brother of hers, the way he was wailing, the way General Hux was smiling, and all the blood… She couldn't handle this.

Was this what he enjoyed watching late at night? Or was this a message to her, a warning? Don't snoop? Other men sent flowers, or chocolate. Letters from the front, telling about their feelings and revealing who they were. Maybe it was his way of doing that. She stood to run, but sat down again defeated, and turned the holofilm on again.

The general bent toward the boy, as gently as she could imagine him ever doing. His thumb wiped away some of the tears marring the young rebel's perfect skin, before it landed on his lip, almost guiltily grazing at it until the boy gasped. He was close enough to kiss him, she thought madly, but he didn't do so. He turned toward the cam, blood glistening on his otherwise perfect uniform, and she couldn't make out what he was saying as his hand plunged into the boy's strands to grab him closer and the film went black. It was over - but certainly not for that rebel, whoever he was - or had been. She wanted to throw up.

Improved life expectancy had been underage marriage almost redundant on many civilized planets, and Mara wasn't young and sheltered enough not to feel something wasn't off with the scene she had witnessed. There was something under that mechanical, cold behaviour, some not so secret enjoyment - at least in this case - and she suddenly could believe the stories she heard about General Hux. The man liked pain, blood and possibly things had gotten quite out of control after the token scene. She could imagine many ways it would have turned, none of them pleasant.

She had married this man.

* * *

The meal dragged on forever, and she was grateful for that. The short trip to her new home was silent, and there was greeted by servants she already knew. It was comforting. She was shown her own bedroom and she hoped, madly, that the man was too lofty and busy to be interested in anything else than a token trophy wife. Maybe he didn't have any such needs, she thought, unable to imagine him wasting time taking off that uniform of his for such base reasons. Maybe he did have needs, but they were met with… whatever she had been witnessing. She shivered.

* * *

Two knocks on the door, closer to how she imaged the police would sound before storming a building, than a shy lover at his darling's door. She willed herself to ignore it and he strode in, owning the place and its inhabitants. She felt a need to stand up from her dressing table where she had been doing nothing, not even staring at her beauty in the mirror, her makeup and hairdo perfectly in place still. He looked at her for a moment, and she wondered if he planned to make her even more terrified, or if he didn't know what to say.

"Lie down", he said, nodding at the bed. His first sentence to her.

Was this his idea of courting his own wife? She passively rebelled and didn't move. He repeated it, his tone more clipped and tighter, not yet angry but surely getting there.

"I am not some sold woman, I won't be forced", she declared.

"You were sold to me", he simply explained. Both a fact and a provocation. This wasn't a match, it was a purchase. His pale blue eyes roamed over her form, conveying more than his words would. "You will do your duty or else". His tone was flat, unemotional. He took off his cap and threw it on her dressing table, the item ominous and strange among her dainty cups and phials. It could look like she was having a tryst with an officer, after all she knew nothing of him - her heart skipped a beat as she stood up and her world went spinning, panic settling over. She caught herself to the back of the chair. She wanted to run but she couldn't. She had nowhere to go. Her parents wouldn't, or couldn't, take her back. She belonged to the General Hux, now.

She was afraid, he realized.

"You seem quite nervous and tense. More than many men I interrogate, actually". Maybe not the best thing to say, he didn't care. "You don't have have to be afraid of me if you behave".

If you behave. He knew then, and worse; he knew that she knew. Maybe it was a gift to already have seen him at his worst, she tried to convince herself, while she slowly made her way to the huge, luxurious bed. At least her childhood bedroom wouldn't bear testimony to whatever would happen next.

She sat down, then nervously lied down, her eyes always on him as if she expected him to pounce on her.

"Show me", he said, his hands clasped behind back. She interrogatively looked up, not understanding what he wanted.

"Show me what my credits bought me", he taunted, and her eyebrows knit, quite unable to compute. His gaze grazed over her legs and pelvis and she finally did, unable to look at him any longer. Bunching her long white dress in her fists - much too akin to a wedding gown, and blood would show on it, she thought hysterically - she gave him a view, the material uncovering her ankles, her calves, her knees…

"More", he demanded, and she went on though she didn't stop. The warmth in his voice all but encouraged her to search his face for some feeling. She found none and idly feared she had imagined the tone also. Her thighs were uncovered now, the top of her stockings giving way to her naked skin, milky and untouched, where no man had laid eyes before. Only then did she notice how she was trembling, and the strange feeling or sensation burrowing into her stomach as his eyes feasted on what she was showing him. He strode closer to the bed and she didn't move. It was tolerable to have him watch her, really. He didn't touch her or attempted to. She allowed herself to find him handsome and to ponder that he had chosen her. He was the General of the First Order. This wasn't unattractive. Maybe if things were taken slow and gentle… A normal husband, coming home, loosening his tie and wishing to be with his wife to unwind a stressful day at work.

A normal husband wouldn't leave holofilms of himself torturing people around.

She stopped, her underwear still gratefully covered under the material, and he didn't tell her to keep going.

He unclasped his hands. "Now…". She tensed, nervously shifting on the bed.

"You have to tell me that I can proceed". He could have speaking to a fellow soldier, an officer, asking for procedure and looking for a mission accomplished. "I cannot force you, after all", the man sneered. He was getting petty revenge for her word. If she told him so, she would feel wanton and debased, and he would always claim that she threw herself at him.

She nodded. He ignored it.

He wanted to hear her ask for it.

"Yes", she whispered.

He cocked an eyebrow, pretending not to be able to decipher her meaning.

"I beg your pardon?". The Coruscant clipped vowels, aristocratic and wholly superior to the so-called elite of that backwater planet, were back. She imagined herself, for an instant, a local nobility lady - a colonial bumpkin to the man - pleading with the mighty General to spare her planet. He would, barely, understand her drawl but she could use more universal gestures. No, this wasn't a good thought at all.

She sighed and he even bent toward her, as if he really wanted to accommodate a prissy wife. What, though, if she was really difficult for not saying what he wanted her to say? Didn't most men want a willing wife? Wasn't it actually the more wholesome way? She wanted to believe this, that he really wanted a normal start between them… But then she caught his gaze again. He was gloating over her shame and she blushed because she had actually been fantasizing about various scenarii involving his power over her.

And then she knew.

"Take me General", she said, pretty ironical, unsure if this was some sick game or what she really wanted. She immediately bit her lip at the wave of arousal coiling through her.

He was on top of her in a second, not reprimanding her for her tone. He pushed a red strand from his eyes, his hair normally perfectly slicked back betraying his absolute control. She noticed he was breathing quicker than usual, too, but his gaze wasn't much different from what was featured on the interrogation holomovies, boring into hers. She shivered from feeling him so close, and from the memory. Her legs parted on their own, giving him space to do whatever this would be, but they shook and almost held him in place too. She liked his weight and solid figure on her slim body. Her hand touched him, as if to make sure he was real and this was happening. It played with the thick material of his jacket, fingered the military insignia and the buttons. He shifted almost unconsciously and they both were startled when his erection nestled against her thigh. He could feel some things, then. And he was good to go just from… this. Mara felt an unwanted wave of tenderness for the man who ruled so many, and yet didn't seem to realize his own hardness before it pressed against her.

She wondered how much experience he did have, after all, with women or with anyone. Anyone willing. Anything more normal than what she had imagined happened after on that movie. She couldn't afford to think of that. Nothing probably happened that would be of a sensuous nature or inappropriate to met on an enemy. But his fingers on her cheek, trailing to her reddened mouth and smudging at the lipstick, were oddly similar…

"General?...", she offered, her hand exploring and pressing against his lower back, pushing him closer to her. His own breath hitched now, and she heard him swear under his breath, a word she wouldn't have thought someone like him used.

He hated that he was the one stalling. It didn't fit his world view, how he saw himself or the marital bed. The husband was to take what the wife gave, or didn't quite.

"Kriff", he repeated, his hand now toying with his zipper as she tensed having it so close to her womanhood. He took himself out and she was torn between wanting to see, and not wanting to.

"I'm not going to hurt you more than needed, but you need to stop this… shaking".

She hadn't noticed she had started doing it again. As if it was so easy! More than needed wasn't encouraging to say the least.

General Hux waited a few seconds, perhaps giving her time to compose herself, but it was obvious she couldn't so he pushed aside her underwear and Mara felt something warm and hard against her folds, pushing and searching. She hoped she wouldn't have to guide him and she looked up interrogatively after several attempts. It wasn't exactly painful, or bad, but it wasn't what it should be. He averted his eyes for the first time, as if frustrated or ashamed. Then he seemed to make up his mind and he grabbed her hair, going for her mouth punishingly. His lips felt soft, too soft for a man - and what man - but this was a welcome distraction from her mind's eye coming up with his strong hand in that boy's hair.

She opened her mouth for him, tentatively, and he didn't do more than pressing his lips to it or biting then laving and soothing the area. What if he didn't want her, what if she couldn't offer what he really went for… Her tongue touched his lip, once, then several times, and he kissed her as a lover would, at last. He held onto her arm, gripping it in a strong grasp that would leave bruises, she thought, and he started thrusting against her, rubbing his cock to her folds, reaching everywhere but where he should possess her. Strange at first, she accepted the intrusion though still half thinking this wasn't what she understood it should be, and she shivered when the blunt head grazed against some pleasurable place inside her, near the top of her womanhood. He did it again, either searching for the entrance or on purpose. Mara held onto him, caressing and encouraging, her hands roaming over his uniform, the moans coming from her lips making for quite a sloppy kiss.

He was breathing hard, occasionally swearing, his hips more erratic but she only felt less ashamed for it, thinking that if the great general could be in such a state, then who was she to be composed?

"Mara…", he managed to say, and she whined at her name pronounced with such a needy tone. Was he really calling her name? "I need… I should…". He seemed to dislike losing control or confessing to a weakness, and yet he was doing both.

"You're too tense, I can't…". Of course he would blame that on her too.

She was soaking wet, his length swiftly stimulating her between her legs, but she knew he hadn't taken her as his wife yet. She didn't want to stop whatever they were doing, but if it felt that good, then how would the real thing…?

His hardness pressing her just the right way was sending tingling electricity through her body, and one last stroke pushed her over the edge she didn't know was a thing. She bit his lip hard, clenching around nothing, and a vague thought of how ironical it would be if she made him bleed didn't take away from her peak. An upward cant of her hips, searching subconsciously for something to fill her, seemed to catch onto his manhood and she cried out, pain and pleasure mixing, when he broke the barrier and made her his.

"Fuck", he panted, feeling himself at last deep into her, where he belonged. He embraced her hard, willing himself not to move because it was too much already, and he wasn't going to embarrass himself and appear like less of a man, but he couldn't, it was just impossible, he could see she was in pain now but his hips were searching for completion, for possession.

She had been told her husband would keep control of the situation, he would know what to do, and it wasn't the case. He knew she was expecting something else. He snarled and shivered, talking to keep himself distracted, but only inciting himself further.

"You made me do this… Can't leave me like this… Take it now…". Even his desire he couldn't take responsibility for, she thought, he had to be the aloof man seduced by a harlot, when he was trembling in need. She actually didn't mind his words, bucking against him and caressing him as she led him to his own finish. She was so tight he was almost in pain, too, not that he would mind such a thing.

"Just like this, that's right", she whispered, feeling him pulsating and twitching. Her pleasure was growing again, enjoying the power over him now that the pain had receded - there was some of it, still, but she wasn't really adverse to the feeling - and he watched her as she shuddered and whined, his hand on her chin preventing her from hiding her face from him. This seemed to do it for him, and she realized how close he had been already at her first orgasm. He was the one averting himself now, not wanting to show vulnerability, but she threw back his own sentence at him.

"Show me". The slightly interrogative lilt would prevent it from being absolutely insolent, it was a plea in a way, and he hesitated but he was too far gone.

"Oh, for fuck's sake", he all but snarled, and his pelvis stuttered as he tensed and stilled, his handsome face contorted in pleasure as he seemed lost in a world of oblivion. She could have sworn no one had seen him like that ever, that along with his warm seed coating her from the inside made her moan and clench, milking him until he slacked against her, breathing out of control.

She petted at his hair, trying to pat it back into shape as she knew he wanted it. His forehead was burning, his cheeks red. She expected him to push her hand away, and probably tuck himself back and leave the room now that the marriage was consummated, but he remained on her bosom, and she didn't stop her gesture. She wanted to unbutton him and have a look at his body, as he had of hers.

"I didn't know what I was doing either", she brought up as a comfort, or a vague taunt, maybe. He peered up, her eyes meeting his icy blue ones, and she couldn't decipher his reaction but he didn't try to claim she was wrong. They had both enjoyed it, it had been clear, and she wanted to convey that it was what mattered as she slightly pressed on his head, settling him back onto her cleavage. His breath was warm against her curves. She was tense and sore between her legs, and she thought she felt the material under her drying from their various fluids - some of it she didn't want to consider, too close to a certain holo - though she knew that should he want his marital right again soon, she wouldn't refuse him. She shivered at the image, pressing him more into her. His strength and might intrigued her and she couldn't deny she was troubled at the idea of being his outlet, the very idea she had hated before. She would probably want to go through that forcing discussion again. She craned down her neck and imprinted a soft kiss on the top of his skull. He didn't protest. She fought hard not to remember the man in the video, not to think she was simply enamoured with the man who could make her experience pleasure, on a high from it, and that he was only tolerating all this because he got to unleash in a more socially acceptable way. A sob escaped her lips at last, the angst and emotions from the night taking a toll. Maybe he was sleeping already, or he didn't care, but the General didn't react this time either.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a reason the General hadn't married younger. Lack of interest, yes, fear - he would never acknowledge it- but also his absolutely draconian demands. Girls were not holy enough to bear his heir. It had to be perfect. His red hair, perfectly coiffed, his uniform, perfectly pressed, while women were… chaos and uncertainty. In the end he had to accept what was offered, and he still wondered what he saw in that one. Their first time had been difficult, and he didn't want to think it was his fault. A husband should have been in charge. More than that.

The second time they did it, it was almost as complicated.

The third time, he decided to explore the matter. They had dined in the luxurious salon, alone, when he told her what had become their phrase.

"Remember the empire needs children". She nodded violently, unwilling to turn him off after such a long time. She also wanted it but would never acknowledge it. Of course. He led her to their bedroom, cold and impersonal, and he gestured for her to lie down.

"Remove your... underthings... before". He cleared his throat before and after. She did so, embarrassed, and tucked the offending panty under a pillow. He was carefully turned away, dramatically not having a look. This was familiar, she could do that. Except it still felt quite inappropriate to be on a bed in front of a man, alone, especially a man who had been inside her. She reassured herself by thinking that he never enjoyed this, and neither did she, not more than normal, not more than needed.

She sighed and waited, complying.

"Up", he simply ordered, the tone of a man used to obedience, and she obeyed. Hux turned toward her only after he heard the rumpling of clothes. This was clinical, clean, cold. Safe. Seeing her uncover her nakedness in front of him, at his order, this wouldn't do. He knelt on the bed, between her parted legs, and he stared. Gently, slowly, he approached, and she inhaled in surprise, almost whined, when his gloved hand found her folds and spread them, his eyes on her inside, where she had never looked at herself. His finger explored, very shallowly at first, softly rubbing along the labia and the folds. She thought she would crave real skin touching her, but this sounded sinful and then the glove made his inspection less personal. Not personal was perfect. He stared hard - she was certain he had never seen a woman like that before - and he went to retreat when his thumb caught a numb of flesh on the top of her parts and she bucked.

It was his turn to be startled, almost removing himself from the bed, suddenly red creeping up his cheeks. Tentatively he touched it again, and she decided she loved this because it made her feel.

"Sir!", she could only exclaim, not knowing whether to ask him to do it again, or to be scared from this all.

"You like that", he stated, though the lilt to his aristocratic voice was almost interrogative. "This is nauseating, disgusting. A woman cannot enjoy anything like…". She knew what she felt, and what she has felt under him, not quite as powerful as this but some troubled, disturbing sensation, growing toward… nothing. Except that first time. She assumed it would be the same there, should she allow herself to explore later on, but she had no time to chide herself for those traitorous thoughts because his finger was at it again, rubbing, trying to find how exactly to manipulate whatever it was.

She moaned and he told her to remain silent, almost snapping, though he was more flushed than when he was taking her, and this made no sense because there was no effort, or barely, involved in this. Taking her always looked like he was struggling with some demon, or waging war, with his completion as the cherished spoils - though he never claimed to get much pleasure from it either. She stayed quiet because she was afraid he would stop. He stopped anyway, afraid somehow. When he removed his hand, the tip of the glove was wet.

The next time he took her, he angled himself slightly strangely from start, and he grazed against that part where she so desperately wanted him to push, and she moaned. He slapped her thigh, though his eyes were now fixated on hers, boring a hole into her, and his clipped tone scolded her.

"This shall be silent". He was afraid of what they experienced the first time, she realized, the loss of control, the reality of it. He didn't adjust his position though and the sensation was growing, growing, it was too much especially now that their eyes were upon each other telling quite a different story - a transgression per se, she was sure - and she was afraid of what was going to happen… He finished much quicker than usual, none of the scowls, sighs, or long suffering failures to complete or to even penetrate. He bit his lip and she madly wondered if he felt something, too, prefered this way, too.

Some days later they met in a corridor, and she blushed at the memory. He did too, there was no mistake. He was ashamed, angry, and yet he pounced on her and pushed her hard against the wall, his body pinning hers there like a fragile butterfly as his hand sought something under the floor length skirts. He pushed the underwear to the side, and he was the one gasping as he found it. He massaged her all over her sex, rubbing at her slit, opening her while she didn't know if she was resisting or parting her thighs for him to finally give her what she needed. He was inexperienced but intelligent, a very quick learner, oh Force maybe he thought of it… He pressed where it made her shiver and soon he found a rhythm against her pearl, pinching, rolling and flicking. She was so wet, she burned all over and though it is a sin, she clung to his back, the rough texture of the uniform barely satisfying, she whined against his chest, mouth agape, her hips bucked and she clenched around the void, around where he should be. She couldn't stand without his strength, she couldn't handle this wave of delight. He gave her some more circling and she just exploded, exclaiming against him and opening her thighs as much as she could because she wanted him just there. She felt embarrassingly wet and feared this would be sweat, or worse.

It was only when he removed his hand and she shuddered from overstimulation that she realized his other arm was cradling her.

"General, what…?". He didn't know what to reply. He didn't know why he wanted this. Why this made him so hard... He thought himself incapable of enjoying much of the act, his completion no more satisfying than a sneeze, certainly less than a victory over rebels. Night after night after night, he came to dread even trying, nightmarishly thinking he might be a degenerate after all if he couldn't even possess an objectively attractive woman; and here he was, more ready than ever, just from… This thing he was afraid to experience and yet wanted to. His grip and his gaze hardened. He basically grabbed her and forced her toward the bedroom. He pushed the door open, led her to the bed and his wife lied down, staring up toward him, expectant of some action or speech.

He didn't move for a moment, then he approached. He pushed up her skirt and pulled down her underwear, she wondered if he wanted to rub her again but no, he undid his zipper and this time, she stared. He was hard, huge, leaking. He shivered and moaned when he touched it but didn't put an end to it. She didn't remember hearing this the other times, ever. The sound aroused something primal inside her.

He climbed on her, his hands trailing along her legs, touching her stomach and her breasts and suddenly he nudged against her slit. They were both wet and they just slid together. She had never been that stretched, he had never been that heavy and thick. He thrust a few times, using words definitely not befitting his rank, and she thought she could get this insane peaking just from feeling and from watching. But as if it was not enough, he angled his penetration so that he stimulated that place again. She couldn't help it, she gave in and she embraced him. The eye contact was seering. He looked unhinged, close to angry but it wasn't so - General Hux's wife would know angry. She accommodated him between her legs, thrusting back and looking for friction where she liked it. She was still sensitive and it almost hurt, he was grabbing at her, touching all those places on her body, almost pleading for her not to protest. Her womb was alive and alight, she clenched around him and he grunted every time she did. He was breathing hard, his grasp hurt but it was good. She suddenly thought, what if it was over before she could… Without shame, way past it, she grabbed at his uniform jacket and pulled him up, hard. He barely moved but that was enough, he was hitting it just right. She was vaguely aware she kept repeating his name and he didn't tell her to be silent. One hard thrust, painful almost, she was grinding against him so brazen and she keened, close to crying, as she felt him coating her inside. He who always prided himself on being cold and silent, was repeating some ungodly word and pulling at her hair. They were going to be ashamed, for sure.

He didn't remove himself even though he should. She kept staring at him. He finally seemed self conscious and tucked himself in before even standing, so she wouldn't see him. It was ironical after he touched himself in front of her. The memory made her shiver.

He was now trying to save his mess of a uniform, pushing his hair back into their perfect shape. But sin was visible on him. She noticed a twitch in his too red mouth, too sensual for a man of power, probably inherited from ancestors who didn't shy away from desire and dirt.

"The Empire needs children", he added, as if to plaster some morality and control onto what had happened.

"Yes, dear", she smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

SOOOOOO I HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO PUBLISH THIS. But without fandom refs, and all. Yano. Would anyone be willing to beta and get a free copy as a thank you? if yes reply in comment or pmand we'll find a way 3


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